


shell of grandport

by zenith (naanobytes)



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: (comfort at the end), Angst, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Oneshot, and add some olberhardt in there, can’t think of any other tags, i might make another fic where therion’s a merman, i wanted to add some olberhardt in here but i couldn’t find a decent spot for it, idk i just... i love they, lmk if u wanna see that hehe, mermaid au, merman!cyrus, or maybe another fic altogether, pirate!therion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 17:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21479785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naanobytes/pseuds/zenith
Summary: He had his shell, and while it was stupid and probably carried a bunch of barnacles and disease inside of it, he didn’t really have much else aboard the ship, other than treasure. So, he held it close, and yearned for more.—alternate title: mermen gays hnngngghhh
Relationships: Cyrus Albright/Therion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	1. shell of grandport - chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so this is my second finished cytheri fic, and the second that i’m posting! i got a sudden urge to write a mermaid au and in two and a half days, 11000 words were created. i had to split it into three chapters- two and an epilogue- because ao3 stinks and won’t let me have over a certain amount of characters in a chapter, but it’s all one fic!
> 
> it’s kinda messy, my intended slowburn became more of a medium-burn, and i’m too lazy to grammar check for any longer, so enjoy some mergays!
> 
> edit // found some formatting errors, which i’ve fixed up! thank you for bearing with me hehe!

Out of all of the places that Therion could’ve gone, he never would’ve imagined that he would’ve ended up _here_. Feet planted firmly on a large pirate’s ship, arms flung over the railing, face green with nausea as he tried his very best not to throw up into the sea that was causing his sickness in the first place.

Therion had always been a crook and a thief. It was what he _did_\- as a young boy, living in Riverford (which had never exactly been kind to the impoverished) it was steal or die. So steal he had, and he’d become the damn best at it, too. He’d never intended to go any further than that, but he’d made the fatal mistake of getting caught stealing from a pirate- for the jewels hanging around his pale neck had been oh-so tempting- and the only way to pay off his debts was labour or bloodshed.

So he’d unwillingly joined the crew of Leon Bastralle, worked his way up in the ranks, and now sat quite comfortably among the top of the bunch; lying, swindling, and stealing to get what he wanted. It wasn’t the most comfortable life, and he was aware that anything could go wrong at a moment’s notice, but he was richer than he ever would’ve been if he’d worked an honest job in an honest town. Maybe one day, he _would_ have the opportunity to work an honest job in an honest town, if he kept up his income.

However, sometimes those sorts of things felt impossible. He’d grown used to the rocking of the ship over the years that he’d spent hanging over its railings, trying to settle his stomach- though on harsher days, his seasickness came back in full throttle. It reminded him that he wasn’t on solid ground- he was out on the open sea, and he likely would be until he encountered a storm and got sunk, (seeing as they had only left Grandport’s harbour a few short days ago.)

Today was one of those days, and shaping up to be one of the more poorly ones, indeed. It seemed that it wasn’t going to get any better- and the ship herself seemed to agree with him, as she intensified her rocking, and Therion let loose his lunch into the churning waters with a horrendous noise.

With one hand, he pulled his sleeve up past his wrist, and wiped the back of his mouth. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, to be sure. With a grimace, but feeling slightly better (though weaker) due to his upheaval, Therion managed to push himself away from the railing and make his way down the ladder, below-decks. 

He walked slowly down the halls, and pushed open the door to his own room. It was a simple thing, with a small bed and dresser for his clothes, and a desk to keep some of his (very few) things. The ship wasn’t built for luxury, after all- it was built for hoarding as much treasure as possible, so they could stay out at sea longer. He shed his stereotypical brown jacket and white tunic in one fluid movement, folding both of them neatly and putting them to one side, to be taken care of later.

Pirates didn’t often wash their clothes, and when they did, it was in _seawater_, which Therion found kind of nasty. That shit was full of the vomit of sailors like him and fish pee. The question was whether that was better than sitting in his own sweat and stench (and, in some cases, vomit), or if he should keep his clothes without any semblance of washing for years. 

Frankly, he hated both ideas, and had started stealing clothes from some of the lower-ranking pirates on the ship, if only for some new things to wear. Since Therion was quite highly respected and had the outfit to match, eyebrows were raised when he was seen wearing a cabin boy's clothes, but the last person that had tried to question him about it had ended up with a cutlass to his throat and swabbing the deck for weeks, so everybody else had deigned to leave it alone. 

(The cutlass wasn’t really his style. Too long and awkward, what with getting all curved like that. He quite preferred daggers. Straight to the point- literally and figuratively.)

He pulled on a new tunic, seeing as he’d wiped his vomit off on the old one, and then pulled the same jacket as before on over it, clasping up the golden buttons with his dainty thief’s fingers. He didn’t bother to check his appearance afterwards, as he wasn’t exactly trying to impress any of the subpar men on this ship (because the only attractive ones were the beautiful blondes, Captain Leon and his first mate Erhardt, who would both cut Therion if he tried to make a move). 

The rocking of the ship had somewhat calmed down in the time he’d spent changing and introspecting, to the point where he wasn’t about to throw up, but he felt nauseous regardless. So, he decided that instead of heading back up quite yet, he would take a seat and relax for a bit.

One of the worst things about being out on the open sea was the boredom. The thrill of being in charge of people had been a fun one, when he’d first earned his position, a few months ago. However, that excitement had quickly died and been cut off like a rotting limb. With _that_ gone, hardly anything to pickpocket, and nobody to talk to (for he both didn’t want to, and was too superior to the others to be seen doing anything but barking orders), the only rush that Therion ever got was when he was on some distant island, robbing it of all it was worth. 

Thus, now, Therion yearned for something to happen. Something- _anything_\- except for death, of course, because that wasn’t exactly ideal. Anything else, though, would’ve been more interesting. Even another pirate raid, so he could stab some other pirates and plunder their weight in gold. With a small sigh, he grabbed one of the few trinkets on top of his desk, and turned it over in his hands.

It was a small shell, light cream and flecked with pink. It started in a coiled shape with spikes protruding from its outside, before flaring out into a pink lip. He’d found it on the beach a few days prior to his indoctrination into Leon Bastralle’s crew, and had originally figured it useless. It would perhaps sell for a couple pennies worth, but he wasn’t interested in _pennies_. It was a waste of his time- and the space in his satchel- to pick it up and take it with him.

So, naturally, he’d ignored it. However, that same day, he’d gone back to the inn that he was staying in and had taken a look over his stolen loot for the day, and had seen it mixed in among the lot. He’d been surprised that there were no fragments of shell in the bag, meaning that it had stayed entirely intact. Briefly, he’d wondered if he’d picked it up. He could think of no other explanation.

He was still thinking about it, a few years later. While he’d denounced himself as a nutjob who’d picked it up and then forgotten about it a long time ago, something inside of him told him that it wasn’t the whole truth. Though the thought of not knowing somewhat agonised him, it was better than hanging over the edge of the water and hoping that some fish or something would come along and entertain him, or staring into space and trying to come up with fantasies that would never come true. 

He had his shell, and while it was stupid and probably carried a bunch of barnacles and disease inside of it, he didn’t really have much else aboard the ship, other than treasure. So, he held it close, and yearned for more.

\--

More he got. 

In a whirlwind, Therion ended up by Erhardt and Captain Leon’s sides, swords to the throat of an enemy pirate ship’s captain. The woman’s eyes blazed with hatred as she turned her head and spat on the ground next to her, and growled that the possessions on her ship were theirs. 

They took everything. Their ship was only a couple of weeks out, and they had plenty of space for treasure, so everything on the enemy ship was plundered. Therion snatched necklaces and bangles from the throats and arms of other pirates, chopped off their fingers so that he could easily take their rings, opened secret compartments to fish out other valuables, and took some of their tunics and other clothes for his own. 

However, by _far_ the most interesting treasure out of all of them that had been found on the ship, was an _actual living creature_. In the captain’s office, which Therion had scouted last (for he had, rightly so, expected that the greatest treasure would be inside of it), there was a trap door hidden behind the desk, and upon going down the steps, Therion had been met with a tank of water, and something swimming around inside of it.

Now that tank of water was on the deck of their own ship, the enemy one long gone to the sea’s waves, which had pushed it in another direction- many pounds lighter, from the plundering they had done. All of the other pirates, especially the younger and less-experienced ones, gathered around to see something that none of them had ever really seen before.

It was a fish. It looked like one, anyway- but it also looked like a human. Like a young adult male, in fact. It started off normally enough at the top, with silky brown hair, and a thin, pale neck that sloped down into broad shoulders, which extended into a lightly-toned midriff. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

However, the _hips_ was where it all went to shit. Instead of slightly wider, gently sloping thighs, the eyes were met with the fading of pale skin- to _black scales_. They tapered down to a relatively thin point- about the width of Therion’s upper arm- before flaring out into a majestic… fin. It looked like a fin, anyway, with two distinct branches and some webbing between them. He leaned closer, as if perhaps, maybe, upon closer inspection, the scales would suddenly melt into skin.

They didn’t. In fact, the closer he looked, the more details he noticed. There were small fins behind its ears, jutting out through its hair, but they seemed to almost droop. His upper body was flecked with black and golden scales that he hadn’t noticed before- especially around his shoulders. The black scales of his tail seemed to be dotted quite frequently with gold, but the overall sheen of it still looked dull. There were patches where the scales looked dry and chafed, like something had been rubbing against them, and the webbing of the tailfin was ripped in multiple spots. 

Clearly, the last pirates hadn’t been taking care of their merchandise very well. He was quite surprised, seeing as this thing would probably sell for a fortune, if its scales were buffed up to look more appealing, or something. He didn’t know exactly how fish scales worked, or if this thing was even a fish. On that thought, though, perhaps its meat tasted good?

Therion let himself imagine that for a moment, before quickly putting the idea out of his head. With a mostly-human upper body, it felt weird to think of eating it. Was food what they were going to sell it for, though? Or would it be to some rich guy who wanted a new exhibit in his home aquarium? The gods only knew, but at least they should be able to fetch a decent price for it, regardless. Therion wasn’t exactly fond of the idea of selling something human-like, let alone keeping it on the ship, but Leon hadn’t kicked it off yet, so it was evident he wasn’t planning to.

So, matters came down to where to _keep_ it. It seemed to be a living creature, judging by the rise and fall of its chest, meaning that they would most likely have to feed it. It would be a few more months by sea until they could reach a trading port big enough to sell the thing off. They had more than enough food to provide for it, but someone had to actually supply it with that food. Likely, whoever was doing that, would be keeping it in their cabin.

These ideas seemed to run through everybody’s heads, and all eyes turned to Leon, who crossed his arms. Erhardt suggested he should keep it in his office, but Leon simply shrugged and narrowed his eyes. After a moment of silence, he declared, “That’s probably th’ _worst_ place to keep it. After all, the captain’s office’s where _we_ found it. In th’event that we get raided, that’ll be the first place they check fer loot.” 

Nods and murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd, and now eyes turned to Erhardt, as the second in command. However, the blonde quickly deflected the situation off of him. “It’s a human and a fish in one body. I don’t want it stinking up my cabin,” he shortly said, quickly shutting down any arguments against him.

And thus, as the third in command, Therion was the subject of everyone’s attention next. He had to have a laugh at that one- he didn’t even want to keep the thing on the ship, and he _definitely_ didn’t want to have it in his cabin and feed it so that he could prepare for it to be sold. He knew that arguing against Leon wouldn’t do any good, but he could damn well try. “Are you kidding me? I don’t want it. I say we toss it back into the ocean- it’s probably venomous or something, and not worth its trouble.”

Leon’s bangs covered one eye, but Therion could still see them glimmer dangerously. “You’d only be keeping it for a few months, Therion. It’s already cuffed, so it can’t get out, and so you’ll only have to go in there to feed it every so often and keep an eye on it. You’re the only other one I trust, as my quartermaster.” 

Therion let out a puff. Leon’s voice was soft and light-hearted, but in a _deadly_ way. It was either he took in this stupid fish, or he was chopped up and thrown to it as one of its meals. There wasn’t any arguing on the matter, after Leon had made up his mind. First rule of the sea, and Leon’s crew. 

“Fine.” He snapped his fingers at some men, gawking off to the side, and gestured to the tank with the creature in it. “Carry it below-decks, and put it in the empty room beside mine.” That way, it would be close enough to keep an eye on, but not constantly in his personal space. He only hoped that he wouldn’t be able to hear it sloshing about in its water through the walls. 

One of the deckhands raised his hand sheepishly, as if he was asking for permission to speak. Therion let out a sigh and pointed at him, eyes narrowing. “What.” It was asked harsly, unlike a question- more of a threat, to not _ask_ a question.

The other deckhands seemed to notice what was about to go on, and attempted to silence their comrade, but he asked anyway. “Sir, with all due respect- ‘ow are we s’posed to get this fish below-decks? The ‘atches ain’t big enough fer the tank.”

Therion’s upper lip curled back in a snarl, and he drew his cutlass from its scabbard to point it at the deckhand’s throat. “That’s not _my_ problem, now _is_ it? _Figure it out_.” He watched the man’s adam’s apple bob as he nodded his head vigorously, and with his point (haha, get it?) made, sheathed the sword once more. He made his way down first, so that he could get to his quarters without those bumbling fools blocking the halls in front of him.

The raid and the delegations about the fish’s designated living quarters had gone well into the night, and Therion felt exhaustion pulling at his eyelids after a long day’s work. His excitement about something new to do had faded shortly after the raid was over, and now his spirits were both heightened and dampered by the thought of their new, scaly crew member. On one hand, it was definitely something new and interesting- a break from the monotony of sitting on a ship and occasionally helping the captain chart a course. On the other hand, he would have to feed it and take care of it like he was its babysitter, which he wasn’t awful thrilled about doing. Thus, everything cancelled out, and he was simply left _tired_.

He shed his clothes and curled up underneath the thin blankets, on the hard bed that his spine had taken a while getting used to, and closed his eyes, letting the ship rock him to sleep.

\--

He was awoken in the wee hours of the morning by the sound of water. His immediate thought was _oh, gods, it’s a storm and the ship’s flooding_, but as he hopped out of bed, he noticed no water on the floor, and none leaking through the door, either. He pulled his clothes on and opened the small window that his cabin had, and lo and behold, the seas were almost completely calm.

So why was he hearing such a loud splashing? Where could it be comi-

Oh. Right.

He exited his room and made for the one next to his, hearing the splashing get louder as he drew closer and opened the door a crack. There was no water on the floor, as the lid was still on the tank, but the creature was awake and splashing with its tailfin. Briefly, Therion felt a pang of sympathy. The thing was underneath metal cuffs on its tail and wrists, holding it to the floor of the tank so that it wouldn’t be able to escape, even if it wanted to. Its human-like features seemed almost melancholy as its tail thrashed in the water, as if it was trying to escape its prison.

He found himself walking towards it, and kneeling beside the tank. The creature’s eyes widened and it tilted its head- but based on the way its shoulders relaxed, it appeared to be _less_ tense than before, with Therion’s arrival. Then its shoulders turned taut again- although, now, it looked _excited_ rather than dejected. 

“My, you’re a human, are you not?” The creature’s voice was unmistakably masculine- soft and gentle, but betraying a childlike excitement. “You are! Those legs are characteristic of the human species! Incredible- I rarely get to look at you types so closely. On that other ship they only came down to feed me occasionally, and were always dressed in cloaks. It was quite a miserable and hungry existence. One can only look at the ship’s wood and marvel at its structure for so long before one begins to tire of it all. Oh, how I wish I had something to study once more!”

The creature went on, its (his?) black and gold tail swishing in the water in the way that a puppy’s might when it was excited. There was enough leniency on the cuffs that it could twist to the side and almost sit up, and press its hands to the glass. They were almost human-like, with the same pale skin- but spotted with scales, fingers with thin webbing between them pointed, a little like claws. It yapped at him, but Therion was only slightly listening. In the end, when it was evident that the being wasn’t going to shut up, he decided to say his own piece.

“So you can talk,” he interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the creature in the tank. “But from the way that you talk about humans, you’re clearly _not_ one.” Therion closed his eyes for a moment, letting the thoughts run through his head. Of course he knew of other intelligent life- perhaps not as advanced as the human race, but many of the monsters that called Orsterra their home had things to protect, same as the rest of them. This was the first he was hearing about something that could speak in human tongue, though. Was it a monster? A variety of humans adapted to underwater life?

“Of course I can talk! What do you take me for, a shrimp?” The fish-human-monster-creature (as Therion had decided to call it for now, until he had a better name) crossed his arms over his chest, in a mirror of Therion’s position. “Merfolk can speak any tongue we so wish- especially those such as myself.” At the mention of himself, all his offended airs seemed to vanish, and he looked back to Therion with wide eyes. “But wait! How crude of me, I forgot to introduce myself! Cyrus Albright, at your service. I’m somewhat of a scholar among my people- I study incredible phenomena, such as the human race, who have adapted to a land as harsh as their own and made it theirs- it’s truly incredible. My people live both in awe and fear of yours, good sir. For good reason, I suppose, looking at my current predicament.”

The fish-human-monster-creature- Cyrus- sighed, and blinked languidly. “Alas, I ended up getting too close to a ship while I was studying it, and got caught in one of those infernal fishing nets. Truly a marvel of design, but one that has trapped and killed many merpeople who have made that fatal mistake, such as I. Oh, woe is me, doomed to forever be driven to the edges for the pursuit of knowledge. On another hand, this is a fantastic opportunity!” His eyes lit up even more, if at all possible. “There is so much I wish for you to tell me! Even if you sell me off and I die an awful death at the hand of some butcherer who wishes to sell my meat and scales, at least I shall have lived a fulfilling life full of knowledge! Please, my dear boy, I ask to know everything. If only I had some coral parchment to write on, so I could preserve the knowledge for future generations! Anyway, we shall start with one of the most pressing questions, one that I have been saving for a human for a great many years. I wish to know if--”

By now, a vein was practically popping out of Therion’s forehead. “Shut up!” he spat, interrupting the creature once more. He had a lot to process, what with everything that this buffoon had been saying to him. 

Its name was Cyrus. _It_ was most likely a _he_, based on appearance and voice. He had talked about ‘merpeople,’ so he probably was one. Now that Therion heard the term, he could remember hearing about it, a long time ago. They were supposed to be rare, if he remembered correctly- and if he remembered even _more_ correctly, then weren’t male mermaids- mermen- supposed to be even _rarer_? Perhaps those had just been legends rather than facts, but since merpeople clearly really existed (either that, or Therion had caught some disease and he was having a fever dream), he wasn’t sure whether he should so easily discredit that information.

“Are you all right, my good sir? You seem to be quite flustered.” Cyrus's infernal voice- how had Therion thought for a moment that it was a _nice_ voice?- piped up again, muted through the tank’s glass, but still ever-present. Therion looked up, and cast a venomous glance at the merman.

“You talk too much. Seriously. Shut up.” He let out a sigh. He had absolutely no idea how _this_ was going to work out- he _hated_ talking, but it seemed to be all that this merman wanted to do. He decided that he would dismiss that notion right now, so hopefully, he would stop being asked. “Look, I’m not planning on being any different than your last caretakers, or whatever. I’m not about to fish-sit you and answer all of your questions. I’m doing this for my captain, so that I don’t end up walking the plank. Capiche?” He didn’t wait for a response before he turned around, opening the door to leave the room. Cyrus's voice didn’t follow him out.

\--

The thing about being assigned to take care of something was that you couldn’t exactly walk away and just pretend that it never existed- you had to go sit next to it, and watch it, and feed it, and clean its tank, and make sure that it didn’t die before you could sell it off for a mint. At first, he’d tried to have the deckhands take care of it so that he didn’t have to, but within the week, Leon had found out. He’d said that he didn’t care, as long as the safety of the merman was assured- which couldn’t be guaranteed by the deckhands. Therion had spat at him and commented how ‘if you want it to be so safe, why don’t you or Erhardt take it,’ but the captain had point-blank refused. He’d recited once again how it was safest with _him_, as he wasn’t too suspicious as the third in command, but Therion knew it was bullshit. Leon didn’t want to take care of it, and neither did Erhardt, so they were shoving it off on the next-best person who didn’t have the authority to complain about it.

Thus, whenever he went to visit the merman, he was quite grumpy. Without a choice in the matter, he would sit by the merman’s tank in silence, feeling pale blue eyes stare into his face as he sharpened his dagger and used it to whittle wood for a couple of hours, then brought some fish and dropped them in the tank, before he left. He did it three times a day- in the morning, at noon, and in the evening, just to make sure that Cyrus was still alive and kicking, before he left and went off to do his own thing again. Whenever Cyrus tried to ask him a question, he would tell him to stop talking and would leave early.

He was on his way to his evening shift, now, a couple of fish wrapped in leather held in his hands. Therion didn’t care that much for the preservation of the fish, but he _did_ care about getting fish guts on his hands, as that stuff was both disgusting, and reeked like hell. Therion was a pirate and a thief, but he liked to keep some semblance of dignity, thank you very much.

He pushed open the door to the empty room beside his. Electricity was hard to come by on a pirate’s ship, and it was late in the evening, so Cyrus's tank was illuminated only by the faint, dusky light filtering through the small, circular window at the far end of the room, and a lantern that Therion had forgot to extinguish upon his prior exit. The lantern’s light reflected off of his golden scales and shrouded his black ones in darkness, casting his cheekbones in a dark shadow, but leaving his frontal features illuminated in yellow. His head turned as Therion entered, mouth kept shut, as he’d learned to do around the pirate.

The merman looked miserable, cooped up in the tank, and Therion couldn’t blame him. He was used to swimming the wide open ocean at incredible speeds- speeds that a human like him couldn’t fathom going- and now he’d been stuck in a tank for who _knew_ how long, without even the freedom to flex his tail or spin around in the water. Man, he could hardly believe the cramps that the guy must have.

Now, Therion wasn’t a sympathetic guy. Living on the streets for most of your life and thieving to try and survive didn’t make the most sympathetic person in the world. But still, seeing Cyrus stare wistfully into the distance, his tail twitching as if he was aching to move (as it likely was), he felt a ripple in his heart. Just a momentary thing- or so he would’ve liked to convince himself, as he walked closer and kneeled beside the tank. He unwrapped the fish carefully, holding only the leather (as well as his breath), seeing as he wasn’t the type of guy that enjoyed manhandling fish, and wasn’t keen on touching it. He dropped it into the tank and sat back on his heels, watching Cyrus mumble a small word of gratitude before taking a few bites.

The scholarly mermaid had seemed so joyful and curious when he’d first arrived. Therion himself had once been like that, in the few days he’d had as a child where he didn’t have to worry about money or food- days where one day, he might have become a scholar as well. He felt slightly bad for taking that away from the merman, the way that it had been taken away from him.

...Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to indulge a couple of his questions. Therion still felt kind of guilty about planning to sell the guy- more so, now that he knew that he was at least as intelligent as a human- anyway, so at least he could die with a little more knowledge under his belt, just as he wished, right? 

Therion adjusted his position, sitting on the floor and crossing his legs. “You said you had questions,” he began quietly, averting his eyes for a moment as Cyrus's met them. “I’ll answer one. Just to keep that stupid sad look off your face. It’s creeping me out.”

He instantly regretted his choice, a frown painting his _own_ features as Cyrus's morphed into a smile. “Well why didn’t you just say so?” _I did_, Therion silently responded, but kept his mouth shut. “I shall start off simply enough. One question I have been wondering about since I first saw you is a peculiar one indeed- but what is your name?”

Therion’s eyes widened, and he looked up from his sitting position to stare directly into Cyrus's eyes. Part of him wanted to be all mysterious and secretive, but there was really no reason to. After a moment of hesitance, he confessed. “Therion.”

“Ah! A lovely name. Now, Therion, how did you get a hair colour such as your own? It is quite odd. I assume that for merpeople and humans, hair colour is much the same, and I hardly ever see white-haired merpeople. The few humans I’ve seen haven’t-”

Therion held up a hand, narrowing his green eyes, to stop the merman from pushing his luck by going on a tangent. He seemed to take the hint and closed his mouth, but that childlike wonder remained in his pale blue eyes, trained on Therion’s, awaiting his answer.

Truth be told, Therion didn’t know. It definitely wasn’t a common hair colour- he’d only seen it on elderly people, unlike himself, who was the ripe old age of 22. Was it some strange thing going on hereditarily, or had he just managed to lose all the colour in his hair from stress since his birth? That, he couldn’t say, and he told Cyrus such.

Cyrus seemed to deflate at that, but he instantly perked back up. “Would you answer another question? Just one more? I have much to ask.”

Therion should’ve stopped him. Should’ve held up his hand, mentioned that he’d only obliged Cyrus one question, and he’d already gone one over the limit- but seeing the glimmer in his eyes, something in him was reluctant to stop, and he simply shrugged and muttered his consent. 

He realised, after a little while, that he’d missed talking to others. As a quartermaster on the ship, the deckhands were reluctant to talk to him, because of his authority, and the knowledge that they could be punished at any time if they said something out of line. Yeah, Therion didn’t exactly do anything to discourage that image, but he hadn’t thought that he _wanted_ to until he’d talked to Cyrus.

Cyrus had such a broad view of the world, despite living most of his life underwater. He supposed it was something that came with being a scholar- tunnel vision when it came to work and studying, but such a wide view of thoughts and opinions on the entire world around them. So many thoughts and theories, ideas that Therion had never thought of and never _would_ have thought of on his own. Cyrus appealed to a Therion that he’d thought he’d lost, back when the guards had come knocking on his door in Riverford and had taken everything from him- a Therion who was young, who spent his time at the library, who read books and wished that one day, he would be standing in front of a class and sharing what he knew.

He thought that that section of him had died off then, but being with Cyrus brought it back. A fraction of what it once was, yes, but something about the merman’s way of thinking was infectious, and he remembered what it was like to want to know _everything_. He thought that maybe even if he never had before, Cyrus would’ve managed to do that anyway.

Cyrus was in the middle of one of his tangents, Therion too tired to stop him, when the light of the lantern flickered and faded to a mere ember. He glanced towards it and let out a yawn, stretching his arms above his head. “Hate to cut you short, but that’s probably my cue to get out of here. I need to rest my brain. You talk too much,” he added onto the end for good measure, standing up clumsily, legs numb from sitting so long. 

Cyrus mimed looking at his watch, despite the fact that he was underwater, and didn’t have one. “Oh my, simply dreadful! Truly, I did not mean to go on for so long. Go to bed at once, lad. When you come back tomorrow, we may continue.” Cyrus smiled- a small thing, but it seemed to bring a little bit of light back to the room all the same- and Therion nodded his head. He was too tired to argue about it- and perhaps he didn’t even _want_ to. So, he simply hooked his fingers through the lantern’s handle, opening the door to the room. “Goodnight, Cyrus,” he murmured, shutting the door behind him without waiting for a reply.


	2. shell of grandport - chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But something else was present, too. When he thought of Cyrus's face, tinted yellow with the lantern’s illumination, or with the sunlight from the window sending ripples of light across his face, there was that lightness and also a gripping pain- for it would not be much longer that the two of them would be spending night after night sat with each other in a dark room, hoping the lights wouldn't go out so that Therion wouldn’t have to leave, and go sleep alone in his darkened room.
> 
> —
> 
> alternate title part 2: hnngghh even GAYER mergays...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> confound u ao3 and ur character limits -shakes fist-
> 
> but here it is! chapter 2!

Life on the ship was no longer boring, that was for sure. His regular duties were as infrequent as ever, but he’d begun spending more and more time around Cyrus, answering his questions and asking some of his own. Every time he came around, he grabbed something different from the ship to show to the merman, who would always gush over what a marvel it was- even if it was the simplest of technologies, such as a fork, or matches. He supposed it made sense, though. From what Cyrus had told him, merpeople rarely ate with cutlery, and if they did, it was always made out of chipped pieces of coral or what was leftover from a shipwreck rather than metal tools- and obviously, fire didn’t exactly _work well_ underwater, so matches and candles and other such things were quite foreign to the merman. Apparently, they often lit their rooms with nature’s glowing creatures, such as jellyfish. Neither of them knew anything about how the animals glowed, nor why, but they spent many an hour making theories with each other.

It was the most that Therion had smiled and laughed in years, sitting beside Cyrus's tank as the man went on about the customs down in the deep ocean. Their cuisine, their rooms- taking the bounty that nature gave them, living in a similar hierarchy to the one that humans did, but also so incredibly different. Sometimes he would go to bed after spending almost the entire day with Cyrus, his jaw sore from smiling and talking so much. Sometimes, he even heard Cyrus talking in his _dreams_, saw his clawed, webbed hands gesticulating in the water as much as his cuffs would allow-

His cuffs.

Right. His cuffs. Because in the last month he’d spent with Cyrus, trying to ignore what was coming, they were getting ever-closer to the trading city of Lightwave, where they would sell the merman for treasure, and then that would be that. Cyrus's scales would be sold for all that they could garner, his tail cut up into filets and served to customers at some fancy restaurant, where aristocrats paid incredible sums to eat things such as fresh merman, and they wouldn’t see each other any longer. Never again.

Therion didn’t want to sell Cyrus, he realised, lying in bed late at night, his eyes wide open as the boat rocked underneath him, yet the nausea in his stomach with a completely different root. Cyrus wasn’t a human, but he was a person, and Therion would daresay a friend. What was he supposed to do after Cyrus was gone? Go back to finding his only thrill in hurting other people, as he always had up until he’d met the merman, only a short month and a bit ago? He knew that he could easily slip back into it, for Therion knew that he wasn’t a good person. But did he want to?

He could release Cyrus. He knew where the keys were kept, and he knew exactly how best to take them so that nobody would ever notice. He was the only one that visited the merman, after all. Even if they did notice them missing in the small window that they would be gone, he could feign ignorance. If they traced it back to him, he could say he only wished to unlock Cyrus's cuffs, to make the specimen more comfortable. A more comfortable specimen was a happier one, a more attractive one, and one more easy to sell as a result. 

And a dangerous thought crossed his mind- would Cyrus take advantage of him? Was he only acting kind to Therion so that the pirate would release him from his metal prison, and then somehow vanish and leave Therion to be thrown to the sharks due to losing their treasure? The man was smart enough to figure out how to do it, and he spoke so wistfully of his home, Therion wasn’t sure what he would risk in order to get back to it. Was it safe to release the merman?

But then Cyrus's face crossed his mind. Those brown locks floating in the water, a faraway look in his eyes, gleaming in the lantern’s dying rays on the first night where Therion had allowed the man to ask a question, and everything on his face had lit up like the sun. He was gorgeous in that moment, his elegantly handsome features softened with wonder and joy. Even if it wasn’t safe, Therion felt like it was worth it.

When he went to visit Cyrus the next morning, it was with bags under his eyes and a set of keys in his hand. The merman tilted his head in confusion when the pirate entered holding the keys, and began to take his shoes and socks off. “Therion? What are you doing?”

He didn’t respond as he eased the lid off of Cyrus's tank, much to the merman’s apparent surprise, and dipped one hand in to check the temperature. He instantly hissed at how cold it was, drawing his hand back. “Holy _shit_, this is even more freezing than usual.”

Cyrus looked concerned about what was going on with Therion so suddenly, that he would lift the lid off of the tank for the first time and dip his hand in with seemingly no fear. Therion only placed his hands in the tank when he was scrubbing the algae off of the sides and cursing quite colourfully about where his life had lead him, but he’d cleaned the tank out only a few days ago, and it was nearly pristine as a result. Still, the merman allowed himself a small chuckle anyways. “I must admit, it is a bit colder than yesterday, but temperatures can drop more extremely than this in the ocean, if the sun is absent for too long.”

Therion let out a small curse and rubbed the fingers that he’d dipped in the water with his other hand, staring at it as if it owed him money and was refusing to pay him back. But he wanted to do this- for Cyrus. Even if he could just allow the merman to flex his tail a little bit, it must be better than nothing. He couldn’t even imagine the pain that the merman was likely in, for Therion’s muscles cramped in a few short hours when he was unable to move them, and Cyrus had been living like this for _at least_ a month.

So, Therion let out a sigh, braced himself, and stuck one foot inside of the tank. He winced at the cold temperature, but forced his entire leg to submerge, shivering the entire way, feeling the thin fabric of his pants sticking to his skin. He silently lamented the fact that they would probably smell of seawater forever, but then again, didn’t everything on this bloody ship smell like seawater at this point?

“_What_ are you doing?” Cyrus yelped as Therion’s foot came to rest on the floor of his tank, trying to retract his long tail and best as he could. Confusion was clear and sharp in his blue eyes as he looked into Therion’s green ones.

“Setting you free, dumbass,” the pirate simply muttered, sticking his other leg in and holding his upper arms, rubbing them furiously in an attempt to warm himself up. He figured that it was best to just go for the plunge, and tried to calm the beating of his heart, so that he could just _go_ underwater and undo the chains. 

“Why?” Cyrus asked, voice soft. There was something else there, which Therion didn’t bother to inspect. 

“Because you’re a living creature, and you deserve at least a little bit of freedom. Now shut up and stop flapping about so that I can get these chains off of you.” The pirate took a deep breath, and took the plunge. He instantly got slapped in the face by cold water, and he had to force his eyes open, feeling them sting with how salty it was. However, he narrowed his eyes and brought his face down to Cyrus's chains, inserting the key into the holes and pulling the metal bands off of his wrists before he had to come up for air. On his second go, he managed to undo the chains around Cyrus's tail, as well.

He pushed his face above the surface and took as much air as he could into his lungs, which were stinging from holding his breath, and the small amount of saltwater that he’d inhaled. He coughed over the edge of the tank, shivering with the effort of his cold body. He didn’t even think he would be able to make it out of the tank. 

Something coiled around his midriff, and then he felt soft hair against his forehead. Now entirely free, Cyrus's first move had been to wrap around Therion and press their foreheads together. Therion had no idea _why_, because Cyrus knew better than anyone that merpeople were coldblooded, but regardless, he whispered a small ‘thank you’ before he lifted the pirate out of the tank, and lowered him to the floor. He hadn’t really noticed how long and mobile Cyrus's tail was until that moment, all uncoiled and hanging over the edge of the tank with all of the newfound space. Therion let out a cough that was meant to say something like ‘no problem,’ before promptly passing out on the floor.

\--

He awoke cold and shivering, his face pressed to the wood. His eyes slowly opened, to survey the area. Dampness was all around him, from where his wet skin and clothes and hair were against the floor, and as he sat up, he felt all of his muscles groan in protest. 

“Jolly good! You’ve woken up! I wasn’t sure you would, after passing out.”

The familiar voice opened his eyes wider, and he twisted his head to see Cyrus in a much different position than he’d ever seen the merman in before- arms crossed, resting on the tank’s edge, his tail twisting around to the side so that the fin was hanging over the tank, right by his arms. Right. He’d undone Cyrus's chains. 

He felt his face go red, for multiple reasons. For one thing, he was still bloody _freezing_, for another, he’d passed out on the floor right after freeing the merman, and for another…

His brain oh so helpfully reminded him of Cyrus's tail, curled around his midriff and hiking up his shirt. Cyrus's skin pressed to his own, cold from the water and not at all comforting, but warming his own all the same. Cyrus's hair flowing behind him in the water, tied back loosely with ribbon, a free lock the perfect size to be tucked behind his ear. Cyrus's eyelashes fanning out over his high cheekbones daintily, like a black spider’s web. Cyrus's lips, plump and perfect, whispering so close to Therion’s-

And that was enough of _that_ train of thought! He was clearly delirious from the cold, because he had no idea where that was coming from, all of a sudden. Definitely enough of that bullshit. Therion practically scrambled to his feet, clearing his throat. “Right. Well. You’re free now. Just… Don’t escape. I don’t want my head cut off.”

“Alright,” Cyrus murmured, quiet for once in his life. His voice was lilted with something- that same something from earlier in the water, when Cyrus had questioned him about his motive for releasing him from the cuffs. Therion’s face turned redder, and Cyrus's tinted to match. 

“Okay. Alright. Goodnight,” Therion managed to get out before he picked up the lantern, turned, and left, face still alight with… Something. Something he didn’t know- had never really known. Something that kept him up _again_ that night- but not with queasiness. There was a _light_ feeling in his chest, like a weight had been lifted off of it, and now he was floating.

But something else was present, too. When he thought of Cyrus's face, tinted yellow with the lantern’s illumination, or with the sunlight from the window sending ripples of light across his face, there was that lightness and also a gripping pain- for it would not be much longer that the two of them would be spending night after night sat with each other in a dark room, hoping the lights wouldn't go out so that Therion wouldn’t have to leave, and go sleep alone in his darkened room.

He hated it. The knowledge that he didn’t want Cyrus to leave, and that he would eventually. It would be easier to step away. To distance himself, so that when it finally happened, he wouldn’t be so close that it hurt.

So why did he want more? When he finally slipped into sleep, why was he dreaming that he was back in that tank, his chest pressed against Cyrus's own, leaning his head against the merman scholar’s shoulder like he wouldn’t drown? Why was he dreaming that Cyrus's lips were soft against his cheek, his hairline, his own? 

Why was he ready to get hurt again?

\--

His conversations with Cyrus from that day on were awkward. As the days and the weeks passed, and they came even closer to shore, Therion began to frequent the cabin beside his own less and less. The rest of the crew looked at him, as if they’d been noticing his shifts in attitude- from distant, to less distant than usual, and back to distant again. To be honest, Therion mostly forgot all about them, now. His thoughts were almost exclusively on Cyrus- on Cyrus, and what aristocrats plate he would be on in a few days, when they finally reached this city and sold him.

Sold him. A living creature. Therion had always been averse to it, but as he was getting to know Cyrus, he’d become even more so. Now, he was disgusted by the idea. He couldn’t even fathom it. He felt guilty for the thought- for if it had been any other living creature, he would’ve given it only the slightest hesitance before collecting the bounty he received for it- but _damnit_, Cyrus was _important_. To his people. To those that loved him.

To Therion. He was important to Therion.

The plan formed in his head before he even knew that it was what he wanted to do. Cyrus lived in the ocean- presumably in the vicinity of this ocean. Even if he didn’t, he would be able to survive in this climate until he found his way back to his own, right? Merpeople could swim fast. Maybe he’d never make it back to his people, but wasn’t that better then ending up dead? He’d already undone the chains- Therion could wait until the captain and all others were sleeping soundly, and then he could lift Cyrus out of his tank, take him above-decks, and then dump him over the side and into the ocean.

Could he betray his crew so easily? The people that, while not his friends, had ensured his food and somewhat-safety for years, now? All for a man that he’d only met a couple of months prior? Could he really betray _all_ of them and get rid of their greatest prize, knowing that he would walk the plank for it and end up dead at the bottom of the ocean, but also knowing that Cyrus was free at last? 

That last thought gave him strength. Cyrus deserved to be free, whatever the cost. He deserved to at least have the _chance_ to make it back to his home and his family- to discover some of humanity and merfolk’s greatest secrets with that incredible mind of his. Perhaps it was the first time Therion was acting for the purpose of someone other than himself, but he felt that if anyone he’d met so far warranted it, it was him. He had the power to change lives for the _better_. 

He had to free him. He would tell Cyrus, but whether the merman agreed or not, he would do it anyway. He couldn’t stay here until they reached the port- he simply couldn’t. Perhaps Therion would still have a chance at a life if he escaped onto the island when they docked, before the other pirates realised that Cyrus was gone from his tank, and he could once again live a low-profile life of stealing and living in inns. Leon might hunt him down, but Therion had the experience to avoid him.

And so, it was a plan. He left to tell Cyrus immediately.

\--

“You can’t be serious.”

Out of all of the answers that he might have expected from the merman, that wasn’t one of them. 

“Of _course_ I’m serious, Cyrus. You’re going to _die_ if you stay here- at least you have a better chance if I free you,” Therion argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And what of you?” the merman asked, eyes uncharacteristically hard- pale blue chips of flint, where soft oceans usually swirled. “You get caught, and get fed to the fish? You don’t get caught, and you live your life on the run? Neither are very promising outcomes. Meanwhile, if I am sold, then you remain on the ship, and remain alive. There are plenty of other scholars out there who can easily do the work that I can- and I am satisfied with what my life has been.” His face softened at that, along with his voice. “I met you, after all.”

Therion’s heart threatened to burst out of his chest, from both anger and a sudden surge of affection. How could he say those things? Denounce his life so _easily_\- if either of them should be doing that, it was him. He had hurt so many people, stealing from them to make his living as a thief and a pirate. His words were so sweet, and Therion didn’t deserve them.

“Don’t you _get_ it? You’re a _scholar_, Cyrus, and the best I’ve ever met- among humans _and_ merfolk.” That had come out a big aggressive, he realised belatedly, and lowered his tone. “Look. I’m just another pirate. If you go free, you have the opportunity to change so many lives for the better. If I go free, I’ll just continue to be miserable on this ship, my only thrill being hurting other people and taking their shit from them. Your life is worth ten of mine.” 

The pirate wrapped his arms around his upper body, turning his face away from Cyrus, suddenly too embarrassed to face him. Coming right out and saying that his life wasn’t worth as much was true, but it still made him feel small and insecure.

“Come here, Therion.” Cyrus's soft voice coaxed him, and quietly, after a moment of hesitation, the white-haired man turned around and stood, walking over to the tank. He was met face to face with Cyrus, who stared directly up and into his eyes. He was enraptured by their light colour and the glisten within them.

And then Cyrus's arms darted out of the tank and he was wrapping them around Therion, pulling him into the tank. The pirate went over the edge with a scream, splashing into the cold water without so much as a moment’s notice. “Not cool!” He yelped through his pain and displeasure, shivering violently as he tried to scramble out of the water.

“On the contrary, one might say that the water is _quite_ cool,” Cyrus teased, wrapping his arms around Therion’s midriff to keep him from leaving the water. Despite being coldblooded, Cyrus's arms still felt warm around his waist, and he gasped at the sensation of skin on skin, now that he was conscious enough to. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn’t felt it in so long, but his whole body reacted to the touch, and he was leaning into Cyrus.

Their chests fit together as they pressed them together- the spots where Cyrus's scales scratched against Therion’s skin didn’t bother him, because everything else between them felt like an intoxicating fire that he kept plunging his hand deeper into. He lowered his head onto Cyrus's shoulder- felt the touch of his lips on his hairline and his temple, sinking deeper into the contact of their bodies. 

When Therion’s head tilted slightly, so did Cyrus's, and their lips accidentally brushed together. The pirate felt his body tense, and the merman’s did too. Both of them stared at each other for a moment, red flushes on their faces-

And then Therion moved his hands, bringing them up to Cyrus’s hair, tugging out the ribbon that fastened his ponytail and playing with the strands that fell into his face. Cyrus, in return, gently brought his hands up to Therion’s cheeks, cupping them, and pushing his hair away from his eyes with one hand. He leaned forward to kiss the scar that Therion usually concealed with his hair, and when their lips slotted together and Therion’s fingers tightened in Cyrus’s hair, everything melted away from them both.

They breathed each other in a couple of moments longer through their chaste kiss before they retracted, and then went back in for another, mouths opening up in order to taste the other. Cyrus didn’t taste like seawater- rather, just lightly salty, like the breeze that blew past on the sandy beach of Goldshore. Then they went back in for another, Therion twisting his fingers in Cyrus’s dark hair, gently tugging it down to his shoulders with both hands. Another, Cyrus wrapping his hands around Therion’s shoulders, twisting his tail around the other man’s waist in order to hold him closer. They started out soft, but the kisses turned desperate, neither one wanting to let go- to hear the other say things that they didn’t want to say nor hear. They were kisses of tragedy- of longing, and of wistful wishes for passion that the neither of them would ever be able to experience with each other, no matter what fate befell their situation. All they had was this moment- a _single moment_ to convey so much- _too_ much. 

When they broke apart at long last, Therion felt even colder than before. He wanted to stay- to kiss Cyrus dizzy, until the both of them forgot that anything was even happening, until he felt warmth spread through his body rather than cold. He wanted to say so many things. Tell Cyrus _everything_. How he felt, why he felt that way, and everything that he wanted to do before the day came. But all that he could think of to say was _none_ of that, because if any of it happened, then none of it would be real, with the knowledge of Cyrus’s sell date hanging over their heads like a big storm cloud. 

The air hit his body as he climbed out of the tank, clothes sticking to his skin and usually-shaggy hair flat against his scalp. He shivered violently, and rubbed his arms with his hands to try and warm himself up. “M-my objective hasn’t changed,” he muttered, his teeth chattering, causing him to stutter. “You’re not g-going to be sold, and if you won’t l-let me throw you o-overboard, tough shit. I-I’ll do it anyway.”

Cyrus let out a long sigh. “I know,” he simply said, leaning forward and out of his tank, his brown hair pooling around the top of his shoulders from where Therion had pulled it out of its usual neat ponytail.

Therion gave one last look at the merman, and saw the emotion reflected in his eyes. They both wanted each other, but they were both smart enough to know that it was one of the only things that they couldn’t have, no matter how hard they tried and how carefully they planned. 

The door shut behind him, and despite it not being the last time that door would open and close, it still felt like a goodbye.

\--

The day was finally at hand. Therion could see the island in the distance as the sky turned dark with twilight, and the members of the crew retired to bed at last. He was the last one above-decks, his arms resting over the railing, as he thought back to the previous night, and his final gift to Cyrus. 

That shell that he’d picked up on the coast of Grandport was no longer needed. If Therion was to do anything more with his life after this, assuming that he survived, he wouldn’t need that shell. So, he gave it to Cyrus.

(_ “This looks just like the shells that wash up near my home,” Cyrus had murmured upon seeing the shell, his eyes brightening as they landed on it. “There is a merfolk legend surrounding them. Apparently, they lead you to your true heart’s desire, and even further past it.”_

_ At that moment, Therion had thought that maybe it was fate that he’d ended up finding that shell in his bag, despite not picking it up. That he’d ended up bringing it with him on his journey across the seas. That he’d ended up giving it to Cyrus, as his final gift to the merman that he was deeply, irreparably in love with, despite all semblance of common sense._

_“I will remember you forever, Therion,” the merman had said, pressing his lips to the shell he was holding in his hands. “Forever, and even longer than that. When the seas in these parts have long forgone my presence, and there is no hint left that betrays we were ever together in the first place, I shall hold this shell to my heart, and I shall remember you until the seas wash that away, too.” _)

Now, there was nothing left to do except to carry out the plan itself. With muted footsteps from years as a thief, Therion made his way down below-decks, and to the tank where Cyrus lay in wait. “Are you ready?” the pirate asked, green eyes zeroing in on pale blue ones in the darkness.

He could hardly see Cyrus’s nod through the murk, but he knew that it would happen. “Don’t make a sound. Breathe lightly, and dare not to flap your tail and alert anyone. Otherwise, we’ll both surely be dead at Captain Leon’s spear.” He helped Cyrus out of the tank, with his warning issued, and flicked his hood over his head- then prepared his arms for the heavy load. 

Therion wasn’t exactly weak, but when the merman came down into his arms, he noted that he was _incredibly_ heavy- even heavier than expected. However, he didn’t have any time to lose. He needed to get it done as fast as possible, leaving as little room for error as possible. Doubts ran through his head as he wrapped his arms around Cyrus and turned, carefully making his way out of the cabin, with a look both ways to ensure that nobody was coming. 

What if Leon decided to check on the merchandise that morning, before the boat docked, and he was able to get off? Then he would find out it was Therion’s doing, and he would surely pay a dear price. Leon wasn’t stupid, much to Therion’s chagrin. The man was captain of the ship for a reason. He doubted that the captain trusted Therion that much, that he wouldn’t go to make sure that the merman was still present before the ship was docked. In fact, it was practically guaranteed that he would.

There was no way that this was going to work… But one look at Cyrus’s face, and his resolve strengthened. They could cut his throat and spill his blood all over the deck, but by then, Cyrus would be long gone, and he would be safe and free, like he deserved. He brushed some of the man’s hair away from his face as he clumsily pushed him up the ladder before pulling himself up, after another check. He was so close to the railing- he could almost see himself letting Cyrus free into the water, and nothing going wrong.

His movements grew frantic, stumbling over to the edge of the ship. He gave one last look around, and let Cyrus lay across the wooden floor. Both of them moved for one final kiss at the same time- whispered words of affection and care passing through the air between them, wishing the other well and praying quietly for their safety.

Their final kiss was one of _hope_. Cyrus would live. Therion might. They might never find their way back to each other, but they would have hope and memories, and one day, perhaps that would be enough to sustain their hearts.

“I love you,” Therion whispered, underneath his breath, tucking a lock of hair behind Cyrus’s ear, before lifting him up and dumping him off of the side. The merman hit the water with a loud splash- Therion instantly assumed a position that looked somewhat like vomiting, as if it would fool any onlookers- and after a moment, waved to Cyrus with a small smile on his face. The merman twisted and dived down, his shimmering black and golden scales vanishing beneath the surface of the swirling seas.

Yes, Therion had never expected that he would be here, out of all places he could’ve gone. Feet planted firmly on a large pirate’s ship, arms flung over the railing, face green with nausea as he tried his very best not to throw up into the sea that was causing his sickness in the first place. That damn sea, that had to take his Cyrus away from him, for the sake of the world that he would improve every day with his studies.

As he looked out over the sea and saw a flash of black and gold, his heart lurched in his chest, like the rocking of the ship that had started it all.


	3. shell of grandport - chapter III (epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He let the sun beat down on his skin, mixing with the salt in the sea air and causing his white hair to frizz up and curl at the ends. His plain white tunic sat comfortably on his upper half, lower clad in a simple pair of black pants. Yes, it was a quiet life, indeed. 
> 
> —
> 
> alternative title part 3: finally! a happy ending for the mergays!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the epilogue! i was originally going to put it at the end of chapter 2, but since this thing is already chaptered, i decided to just go Ham and add a third!
> 
> so enjoy the finally-happy ending!

Therion had arrived safely in the city of Lightwave the next morning, and instantly was off of the ship with everything that he owned. He’d claimed that Cyrus was still in his tank below-decks, and he wasn’t about to sit around and wait for Captain Leon to find out that he had been lying, and had instead thrown the merman over the side of the ship. He would have to lie low for a little while, that much was true, but eventually, the pirates would (hopefully) give up on retribution, and he would be able to walk the streets with little fear.

Lightwave was a thankfully large place, which meant he had plenty of places where he could hide. He ended up in a small house by the seashore, bought with the money that he’d stolen from the residents- after all, as much as Cyrus had changed his point of view, Therion was still himself. It was the only house in the vicinity, and since it was such a small beach, there were never any passersby. When he stepped outside each morning, he felt the caress of the sea’s breeze through his hair, reminding him of the black and gold merman, who had been the real thief in the end- stealing the former pirate’s heart, and swimming away with it back to the continent of Orsterra. 

The worst thing? He wasn’t even upset about it. Pain still lanced through him when he scented the ocean, but so did a sense of comfort. The shell that he’d left Cyrus with and the promise to never forget each other that it meant was stronger than the distance between them, and he had memories that he was sure would never fade, despite the nature of the sea, which was to wash away all that entered it. One day, Cyrus would come back to him, whether it was in form or in spirit, and whichever it was, he would await the day.

\--

It happened on a particularly sunny afternoon, where Therion was sat outside on his front porch, watching the waves lap against the sandy shore. He could taste the salt in his coffee as he drank it- one downside to living near the beach, as well as all the bloody sun. He quite hated it, if he was honest, but he stayed there. Years had passed since he’d seen that tail flick below the surface off of the edge of the ship, but still he lived by the beach, enjoying his quiet and solitary life. After all, the man had had quite enough excitement in his time, for only being 25.

He let the sun beat down on his skin, mixing with the salt in the sea air and causing his white hair to frizz up and curl at the ends. His plain white tunic sat comfortably on his upper half, lower clad in a simple pair of black pants. Yes, it was a quiet life, indeed. 

And then he heard something. It sounded like something had hit the shore- and he turned his head to take a look at it. What he saw, he couldn’t quite believe.

He placed his mug of coffee down on the small table and stood on shaky legs, making his way towards the edge of the beach, where a familiar black colour was cast in sharp contrast to the sand. Therion knelt down beside the figure, his eyes widening. He hated the way that his voice broke when he spoke, but he was unable to stop it from doing so. 

“Cyrus? Is it really you?”

He watched those familiar shoulders tense, watched that familiar angular head slowly tilt up, saw those familiar soft features scan over his own, watched that familiar wry smile split his face.

“Fancy seeing you here, Therion. It’s been a long time.”

Something inside of Therion broke and was put back together at the same time, as his eyelids brimmed with tears. “Shut up, you stupid son of a bitch,” he whispered, before wrapping his arms around the merman and pulling him into a hug. He cried salty tears into Cyrus’s shoulder, taking comfort in the fact that Cyrus was doing the same. 

Later, after the both of them had dried their eyes, the merman explained how he’d happened to arrive on the shores of Lightwave. He’d headed back in the direction of Grandport after Therion had freed him, and had made it back to his home and the people that cared about him. However, he’d felt the whole time like something had been missing, with Therion’s snarky comments and white hair continuously blighting his mind when he was doing anything but working. He had been content with how things had left off, but an opportunity to go to another merfolk pod nearby Lightwave and work there had been presented to him. He’d had no idea that it was where Therion was living, but as he’d been arriving to the area where the pod was supposed to live, a particularly sharp current had swept away the shell. Naturally, he’d chased after it, and had ended up on the shore, where he’d promptly been found by the one who had gifted it to him.

The explanation was nice, and all, but Therion couldn’t have cared less if he’d tried with every fibre of his being. Cyrus was once again here with him, and he would be working nearby. It had seemed impossible, that the two of them would ever meet each other again- let alone end up in such close proximity, so that they could have something together that would’ve been impossible under any other circumstances.

As they two of them pressed their lips together on the beach, the breeze carding through their hair, light taste of salt in their mouths, they clasped their hands together. 

One was human, with tanned, dexterous fingers. The other was merman, with pale, clawed fingers, flecked with scales. 

However, no two things had ever seemed to fit so perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! it’s done! 
> 
> i hope you enjoyed- thank you for reading all three parts, and have a great rest of your day/night! 💖💖
> 
> (p.s. i listened to therion’s theme for like. 9 hours straight while i was writing this. it was a lot of the inspiration for the Mood of this fic, but now whenever i hear it, i just think of the kiss scene between them, so i’m sad)


End file.
